


he knows your name

by lightsgodown



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, the angelic host is important???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsgodown/pseuds/lightsgodown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is hunted, but he will never be found. The Host doesn't know why, but the Righteous Man does.<br/>Names are arbitrary, you see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he knows your name

Names in the Host are not given, as they are in the human world. Angels choose their own names. That does not mean, however, that an angel’s chosen name is the one he will be called his whole life. Names are arbitrary, inconsistent things – the Host often refers to angels by many different names over many thousands of millennia. They’re biographical by their very nature; they tell an angel’s story, if you’re patient enough to read it.

Of all the countless angels in the Host, perhaps none has had as many names as Castiel. His chosen name, three simple syllables, is likely the weakest of all his names, even in its immeasurable power. Three syllables did him no justice, but still they made even the youngest and oldest of the Host tremble for so many reasons. _Castiel_ , Angel of Thursday. So much more.

When Adam and Eve were in the Garden, the Host called him Peace; he made the rains fall and the grass grow and the birds sing. He was the gentle caress of spring after the chilling crush of winter.

When the man and woman fell and were cast out, they called him Protector. He sheltered them with fire and wind, kept them out of the way of the Guard’s flaming sword. 

When the Flood came roaring over the tallest mountain for forty days and forty nights, Noah prayed to Serenity in the ark. Serenity stilled the hearts of frightened men and animals alike. And when the water subsided and the people found dry land again, the Host renamed him New Life.

For millennia he was New Life, Hope Springs Eternal, Second Chances. He watched over the baby birds crying out for their mothers in the nests and safeguarded the people of Israel in their captivity.

When the Angel of Death came to Egypt and extinguished the firstborns, the Host called him Painter. Doorframes were his canvas; lambs’ blood his ink. 

When the Red Sea surrounded the Egyptians in its watery blanket, when Vesuvius blew its thick, fiery breath on Pompeii, when London smoldered in its own ashes, when San Francisco quaked and trembled and swallowed its citizens whole, the Host called him the Space Between the Ribs; fatal like a stab.

He was Mercy to the people when the Israelites constructed altars on the dry beach opposite the Sea. Discovery when the archaeologists found the near-perfect remains of thousand-year-old people in the city. Phoenix when London rebuilt herself. Solid Ground when San Francisco began building earthquake-proof buildings. 

They named him Lover of the Light when he took a blind man’s eyes and gave them sight; Walk Gently when a crippled man ran again.

To the Host he was the Strategist, the master of battle. From the throne of David to the columns of Rome, from ancient China to the New World, he was there, guiding the wars and bringing the leaders to victory. He was Planner, Victor, Maintainer. He was Power, and he was Legend.

He was Compassion, and he stood in between Heaven and humanity, fought for them. He was Heaven’s Stumbling Block, Humanity’s Martyr. He was Love and Second Chances and Endless Grace.

When the order came for Castiel to rescue the Righteous Man, they called him Chosen. When he painstakingly stitched the Torturer back together cell by cell, he was Healer.

When Dean Winchester crawled out of his shallow grave, they called him Redeemer - the one who saves.

And then Castiel became the Angel of the Lord – another chosen name, and poorly executed.

They called him Perseverance when he disappeared into Hell for a second time to retrieve Sam Winchester. When the soul was left behind, they named him Reckless.

The Host soon called him other things: Rebel, Traitor of God, Destroyer of Heaven.

The people called him Freedom Fighter.

The Host said he was a Barbarian. 

Our New God.

Murderer.

Emmanuel was not him; it was a pale imitation of the real thing. They named him Petulance, locked in a hospital room with barred windows and canvas slippers. 

They named him Penance for his time in Purgatory, Prodigal Son when he tried to undo his mistakes. But when Metatron cast them out of their home, the Host named him Wanted, Graceless, Fallen.

They hunted him, calling out all his names, desperate to find the reason for their suffering and end him. He was Trouble, and he needed to be stopped.

But somewhere along the way, they realized they could not find him; they no longer knew his name. He was Hidden, Safe. He was Untraceable.

The Host always knew that angels choose their names; what they did not realize was how easily a mere human could choose an angel’s name. They knew him by hundreds of names, thousands of stories, countless dead.

None of the Host know him by his most important name, the one a Righteous Man chose when he fell in love with an angel. They do not know the power of two souls intertwined – they can protect, and love, and sacrifice everything for the other. They can rewrite history. They can rename the Angel of Thursday, make him into something simple and pure, wild and beautiful.

The Host will never know him the way Dean Winchester does. They will never know his real name. A whispered syllable, heavy with emotion and memory and more easily said than any other in his lifetime.

_Cas._

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://bittercasgirl.tumblr.com/post/69109750519)  
> Thanks, as always, to my lovely beta/verb tense corrector/all around badass Mary Beth.


End file.
